Burdens
by D-chan
Summary: MajicOrphenOrphenMajic :: for Minasensei :: mild spoilers for SSOR, language, contemplative suicide, shounen ai :: The weight of emotional burdens finally begins to catch up with Majic, and he needs reassuring from an unlikely source.


:: Burdens ::  
  
Sorcerous Stabber Orphen Revenge  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen: Revenge, Orphen, Majic, or any of the other mentioned or nonmentioned canon characters. All rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairings: Majic+Orphen/Orphen+Majic  
  
Warnings: some mild spoilers for SSO and SSOR, language, angst, contemplative suicide, shounen ai  
  
Notes: I can't decide if it's PG or PG-13, so I just went the safe way. I'm no good at rating things anyway.  
  
Okay. I have a dedication: to Mina-sensei. She inspired me, even if it wasn't what she intended to inspire for, I think, and she's always dedicating these amazing stories to me and I want to give something back. I hope this is good enough.  
  
This is sort of a sequel to "Singing a Lullaby." It's a bit darker, and I sort of lost sight of what my purpose was halfway through, so I hope it didn't make it confusing. It's another Majic-centered piece (God, I really should broaden my character developement; you people must be sick of him by now) but it's a bit darker than usual. I got the idea from Mina-sensei's review to my "Illusions" fic, when she said that Majic had seen a lot of dark things and that it would usually scar a person.  
  
So I'm done rambling. On with it, ne?  
  
* * *  
  
No one would notice, no one would notice... Majic had to repeat those four words to himself as he crept away from the designated campsite. And this time, he was sure he was right. No longer did Cleao jump awake at the slightest of noise; no longer did Orphen have nightmares or severe cases of insomnia that kept him awake until the sun rose to bleed the sky of its protective nighttime colours.  
  
No, this time Majic was quite certain he was alone.  
  
It was the perfect night to slip away, too. It was dark, no moon, clouds covering the stars-- neither Orphen nor Cleao should be able to see his empty sleeping bag. It was an old trick he'd learned from Orphen, tucking his pillow into his sleeping back to make it appear as though his back were to his companions. Not that Orphen had taught it to him, but he had woken up a few times to see his master in mid- or end-task of doing the very same thing.  
  
Of course, it may not work on him, but at least Cleao was now more prone to wake than Orphen. The blonde apprentice shook his head, ducking beneath a low-hanging tree branch to avoid a black eye.  
  
Majic had explored the area earlier, before dark. Lately he had been prone to wondering off, and both his traveling companions had become used to it. Nearby was a ravine; a piece of earth that dropped off suddenly. The ground was covered with moss and wet leaves from -- Majic assumed -- the previous night's rain. Majic was grateful for it now.  
  
The small group seemed so lonely, so quiet, and so painfully tense without Licorice now. Majic had known better than to get used to her presence, but he *had* let himself adjust-- and he was disgusted with himself for it. Orphen seemed fine at her sudden leave, and Cleao was clearly hurting the worst. Rarely did she pipe up simply to annoy Orphen anymore. She had grown withdrawn, and it was easy to see she needed comforting. And, in their own ways, Orphen and Majic had gone out of their way to give her what she needed.  
  
Majic knew that Orphen hadn't cared much for the mousy, brown-haired, supposed-sorceress any more than he had his own apprentice at their first meeting. His master was one to slowly grow to accept people, should he choose to accept them at all. Licorice hadn't been with them for long, and Orphen hadn't allowed himself to grow attached.  
  
And neither had Majic, really. He hadn't grown attached to *her* as a *person*, but he had adjusted rather comfortably to her presence, to her ability to keep Cleao busy without bothering Orphen, to her doing so much for them.  
  
It was human nature to take everything for granted, decided the now-fifteen year-old apprentice. Majic had to paw along the ground with his foot to be certain he didn't step suddenly to drop down the ravine-- Though it *did* seem appealing at the moment.  
  
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of that thought. No, he had to be positive. That was what he was good at. Orphen *expected* him to be light, happy and a bit ignorant. He had to fulfill the master's requirements, at least most of the time.  
  
The blonde grimaced, thinking, 'Though it *would* be nice to get something more than chastisement.' In fact, the last time Orphen had praised him had been...  
  
Majic bit his lip, squinting into the darkness. His eyes were slowly adjusting, and he could see the trees and brush thinning out. He must have been nearing the clearing, closer to the edge of possibly the world. Or at least a part of the world.  
  
At the end of a ravine there had to lay something, but what? Depending on how one got there, Majic supposed there were many different things. A river to some, just land to others, a place to relax, a safety zone... death...  
  
He *really* had to stop thinking these morbid thoughts.  
  
Majic sighed, a soft, barely audible sound in the stillness of the thinning forest. His arms were cold, his feet hurt from walking all day and right then, but he continued on, refusing to stop until he found his place of silent refuge.  
  
The wide-eyed teen stopped what he knew was close to the ravine. There was a dark outline of night-stained green against black, which had to be the edge of the earth. He sank to his knees, slowly sliding back to sit down on the damp moss and dirt. There would be stains on his clothes in the morning, but that was all right. Majic sighed again, running a hand through his already disheveled blonde hair.  
  
Now that he had the time, space, and quietness to think, Majic discovered that he didn't want to. If what Orphen, Hartia, and even Erris' accounts were true, then just a couple weeks ago he had tried to do the unthinkable. He'd violated what had become a personal law, a vow that he would never, ever do it because he cared too much: he'd attacked his master with killing intent.  
  
Majic wished he could lie to himself, throw his mind into denial, but two things prevented him from doing that. One was Orphen; he never doubted his master. If Orphen told him something was true, Majic more often than not was apt to believe it. The second was Erris; though he didn't like her in the romantic way she wanted him to, Majic still regarded her as a reliable, good, and honest friend. And the third came in little bits of memory.  
  
Okay, so there were three things.  
  
Majic couldn't deny that things had seemed oddly fuzzy for a while. He'd lost sense of time, forgetting what day, hour, minute it was, what he was doing, where he was, why he was wearing such strange clothes... All he knew was that once he'd come out of his trance, his face had ached with what he knew had to be one of Orphen's infamous punches. He had looked up in time to see Orphen aim his hands at him, and for a half-mad moment Majic had feared his own teacher would attack him. A moment later, there had been a small explosion, and Majic was relatively unharmed.  
  
He had been intent on asking what was going on, but a crisis had prevented him from doing so only split seconds later. No sooner had Majic gotten to his feet had he seen a flicker in the sky, heard Hartia scream, "Killiranshelo!" and then he was moving without thought.  
  
At least Orphen had come out of *that* unscathed.  
  
Majic felt humiliated thinking about it. Later Orphen had scolded him, reprimanding him for trying to take the attack himself when magic would have been the most sensible thing to use. What had he been trying to teach him all this time? Were all his efforts for naught?  
  
Majic had cried later, feeling confused and hurt. He was sure that, given a bit more time to collect his thoughts, he would have done what was sensible. Not only that, he had needed time to recover before he could use magic. According to Erris' recounts, Majic had drained himself nearly dry trying to kill his teacher.  
  
That had been the last time Orphen had praised him, and Majic hated knowing it. He had been powerful for a short time, and when asked, Orphen had admitted to having said that Majic had power, but lacked skill. That was a compliment compared to everything else, and Majic had received it for all the wrong reasons under all the wrong circumstances.  
  
'I do try my best,' he told himself. 'And I know that I'm having problems tapping into my powers... But Oshou-sama doesn't want an unskilled apprentice, does he?'  
  
That was somewhat a lie. He knew there were benefits for the black sorcerer should he keep Majic as his pupil, such as the money he earned for doing so. Majic also believed that Orphen cared for him to a certain extent; his leaving should have a bigger impact than Licorice's, right?  
  
So why then, despite his optimistic thinking, did Majic still feel as though no one would notice if he just disappeared?  
  
A bit of wind was picking up. Majic shifted, edging closer to the cliff. He gripped at the moss, gathering earth beneath his fingernails. He didn't want to fall, but he was oddly curious to peer beyond what his vision could comprehend.  
  
It was night, though. All he could see was darkness, and as he closed his eyes against the cold wing, Majic felt as though he were being embraced by it.  
  
What had happened to make him have such strange emotions course through him? It had only been a year and a half since he'd taken his first steps out of Totokanta, journeying into the unknown with his tutor and friend. There had been so many amazing things; he'd met so many strange and interesting people, as well as frightening and twisted. Along with beautiful scenery came battles that would spatter the ground with blood, tainting the innocent land.  
  
If this was a part of growing up, Majic didn't want to go through it. The strange, disturbingly dark and serious thoughts frightened him. If this was maturity... If this was what had formed Orphen... He didn't want it.  
  
Majic didn't want it.  
  
His hand left the moss, groping blindly until he grasped a sturdy branch, his breath coming in shaky and uneven.  
  
It was sheer impulse; Majic was scared, only able to think of the most frightening things he'd seen. All the bloodshed, the death, the tears, the screams... He whimpered softly, clenching his eyes shut tightly.  
  
'If I disappear, no one would notice... If I disappear, no one would ask... If I disappear... If I died... *would* they notice?'  
  
Gold-stained-silver strands flew in his eyes, blinding him momentarily. The wind was picking up, making him feel sick and unsteady. He tightened his grip on the branch, only to hear a sharp, loud crack. He found himself staring almost dreamily at the splintered piece. It had been dead, a dead branch embedded in the earth... From what tree had it fallen? How long had it been dead? Had anyone noticed its unnatural position in the earth?  
  
"Majic!"  
  
He found his feet pushing him away from the edge, fear that wasn't unknown creeping back into him. Was there an explanation for his strange thoughts? Why was this happening? Why couldn't he answer his own questions? Majic desperately wanted to make the wind stop howling so badly; large drops of rain were falling to the ground, few and far between, but signaling a rainstorm.  
  
Majic scrambled to his feet, slipping on the wet moss as he hurried back toward the campsite. This had been a bad idea; he'd only succeeded in frightening himself further rather than assuage his troubled thoughts.  
  
Definitely a *bad* idea.  
  
As he shoved aside wet leaves and soggy tree branches, Majic found his wrist clamped in an ironlike fist. It was unmistakably his master, and when he found Orphen's face, Majic wished he hadn't.  
  
"Where the hell have you been?" snapped the mahogany-eyed sorcerer, tugging on his apprentice in a very ungentle manner. "Cleao and I have been looking all over for you; you need to stop wandering off! It's dangerous at night!"  
  
If he was expecting an apology, he didn't get one. Majic remained quiescent, allowing himself to be dragged along. Of course they had woken up; a storm *would* wake them up. No doubt they could find shelter within the hour, but Majic wasn't concerned about that. His eyes flickered up to his teacher's face, quickly darting away when his gaze was met with a cold, very displeased stare.  
  
They found Cleao quickly. The young woman had her pet, a Deep Dragon cub, clutched protectively to her chest. "Oh, you found him," she said, sounding both relieved and frantic at the same time.  
  
Orphen said nothing, but he finally released the boy's arm. Majic rubbed it gently; there were going to be bruises there tomorrow, no doubt. "Let's go," he said in a clipped voice.  
  
Quite some time later found the trio in a dank cave, if it could appropriately be called that. It was tiny, barely enough shelter and space for all three of them to lie down. But it was enough.  
  
Cleao had Leki pulled close to her, stroking his fur and whispering unheard things in his sharp ears. The Dragon cub seemed calm, if not distraught and wet. Orphen was leaning against some rock, glaring darkly at the ground. Dark strands clung to his forehead, his blood-coloured headband clinging to him like second skin. Majic was as far as he could get from his master without leaving the shelter, his back pressed firmly into the hard rock. Like Orphen, his gaze was downcast, but he had no expression.  
  
"So what the hell were you doing?" Orphen asked suddenly, his strong voice slapping both the blondes' awake.  
  
Cleao sighed, rolling her head to the side as she tried to make herself comfortable. "Please, Orphen, now's not the time... Talk tomorrow--"  
  
"I think now is the perfect time," snapped the sorcerer. "Before he can come up with a pitiful excuse like he always does."  
  
Majic drew his knees to his chest, pressing his nose between them. "I wouldn't lie to you, Oshou-sama."  
  
"Like hell." Majic winced but remained silent. "You've been lying for a long time now."  
  
"No, I--"  
  
"Shut up!" Orphen was tense, and Cleao seemed to have given up on calming him. She sighed and closed her eyes, making it seem as though she were trying to block out their voices. But really, both sorcerers knew she was listening, and Orphen didn't seem to care. "For the past two weeks you've been stupidly selfless. 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine.' That's *bullshit*!"  
  
"Orphen!" Cleao's eyes snapped open and she was staring at him; clearly that had been unexpected.  
  
Majic, however, had expected nothing less... even if it did sting. The truth was, he'd forced himself into believing he *was* fine. It was his duty to carry the burdens, physically as well as emotionally. The emotional burden wasn't a part of his apprenticeship, but rather something he had been determined to do since the first time he saw his master break down and cry.  
  
"If there's something you need to talk about, you have to *tell* us." Orphen's tone had softened a little, soothing a bit of the initial hurt. "Cleao and I aren't mind-readers."  
  
Majic hated being the center of attention. He hated the fixed stares both his master and seemingly-sister were giving him. He closed his eyes, nestling his chin more comfortably on his knees.  
  
"Majic?"  
  
"There's nothing," he murmured, ducking his head into the circle of his arms so they wouldn't see his tears. "I have nothing to say."  
  
* * *  
  
"Back here again?"  
  
Majic started at the surprisingly gentle voice. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his master standing some good few feet away, leaning comfortably against a tree.  
  
He had gone back to the ravine once the storm had passed. Cleao had been asleep, Leki cuddled to her chest, and he could never be sure if Orphen was awake or not anymore. Nevertheless, the sun was out, and he went back.  
  
"Good morning, Oshou-sama," he said, smiling faintly. It was a weak imitation; Orphen's rebuke had shattered his protective shields, and Majic had barely the strength left to weakly pull the pieces together. "Is Cleao still sleeping?"  
  
Orphen shrugged one shoulder. The other was against the tree, resting on the rough bark. "Most likely."  
  
Majic made a small noise of acknowledgment, turning to gaze back over the ravine. Now that it wasn't dark, he could see trickles of faraway rivers on the other side, see bushes and the spots of grass that grew, sometimes speckled with the occasional beautiful flower. "Last night all of this just seemed like a huge drop-off of nothingness," he whispered.  
  
He heard the soft squish of moss as his master leisurely made his way to where the apprentice was standing. "Nighttime is funny," he heard him say. "It can play tricks on your eyes, ears, senses... Even your emotions."  
  
Majic's breath caught, but he quickly recovered. Orphen was just being observant; there was no reason to get tense. "Is that so, Oshou-sama?"  
  
"Yeah. Snow does it to me."  
  
Majic blinked, glancing over his shoulder to give the young man an inquiring look. "Snow?"  
  
Orphen nodded, causing almost black hair to obscure his vision. He brushed it aside idly, replying, "Yes. Snow depresses me."  
  
The blonde paused, thinking for a moment. It wasn't hard to make the connection. "Because... Azari..." Orphen was nodding before he could finish, so he didn't bother to. "I see."  
  
Without warning, there was a strong hand on his shoulder. Orphen was pulling him back, resting the boy's back against his firm chest. Majic stared out into the distance, unable to summon a reaction. He could only wonder and be baffled at his master's movements. "But the trick," said Orphen, "is to remember the better things, too. Hartia and I always played in the snow as children; Sensei would scold us something terrible when he tramped to classes soaking wet. But it's one of the memories I wouldn't trade for anything else."  
  
"You've always had someone, haven't you, Oshou-sama?"  
  
"Not always," clarified Orphen. "Or so I thought. Sensei and Hartia were always on my side. I just never knew it. The people I thought understood me didn't, and people I thought I understood, I did not. It messed me up a lot... Sometimes I can't remember who I am; Killiranshelo or Orphen."  
  
Majic bit his lower lip. This was information he had always wanted Orphen to reveal to him, so that he could gain yet another level of knowledge of his master. He cared for Orphen too deeply, Majic thought. It was to the point he would do nearly anything for him without giving it a second thought. Sometimes, of course, he had been purposefully difficult. Majic found that the more he opposed Orphen, the more agitated the older sorcerer grew, and thus the clearer his true feelings and intentions were. It was a dirty trick, and most would deem it beyond Majic's comprehension-- but he was much more twisted than even he suspected.  
  
All the same, it seemed Orphen was giving this too freely. Clearly he wanted something in return...  
  
"Majic?"  
  
"I told you last night, Oshou-sama..." His voice was gentle, timid and quiet, but underlying it was an attempt to be firm, to defy for once. "I have nothing to say."  
  
"Yes." Orphen's hand touched his shoulder, squeezing in a painful grip. "And you're not a good liar at all."  
  
Majic's fists clenched. For the first time he could remember, he wished Orphen would leave him alone. That alone scared him. He'd always wanted to be around, near, close to his master, and to *not* want his presence... It was unbelievable, and Majic knew it was another reaction he was having to the strange, dark emotions within him.  
  
Orphen's hand left him, and Majic wasn't sure what to think, but in the next instant Orphen's sharp knuckles were embedded in his skull-- a very fond habit of his, it seemed. Majic yelped, jerking away and covering his head, staring at his master in disbelief. What had he done *this* time? "Oshou-sama!"  
  
"Damnit, Majic, I don't want to push you," grit out his master, slanted eyes narrowing dangerously. "But the more you hold back, the worse you'll get. You'll drive yourself crazy! You're not like normal people, you know. You've seen more than your mind can handle."  
  
Insulted, Majic said, "I try to adapt, Oshou–"  
  
"You can't adapt to such things like blood, pain and death when all you've grown up hearing was love, life and peace," Orphen cut in. His amber eyes were smoldering, and Majic actually cowered. "It's partially my fault, taking you in as my student, letting you see things you shouldn't have... I believe I have a right to know what the hell is wrong, so I can do my best to fix it!"  
  
Majic gaped, locks of blonde hair tickling his face. This was completely surreal. The hit, he was used to. Orphen was prone to thump him should he act in a way that displeased the older sorcerer. But the words, gentle despite the rough tone, were so touching that it seemed unreal that they were coming from Orphen's lips. It wasn't that Majic believed his master lacked emotions; that wasn't it at all. It was simply that the evil-eyed sorcerer rarely showed compassion of any form.  
  
And now that he was being directly confronted by his master; teacher; companion; someone he cared for, Majic half wanted to spill everything, to admit that he had no idea why he was thinking the depressing thoughts he was, why he was so disgusted with himself, why he hated himself for being such a coward, especially in comparison to Cleao... But the words were stuck in his throat, and all he could do was shake his head.  
  
He half expected Orphen to punch him again, but the sienna-eyed sorcerer didn't do any such thing. Instead, Orphen sighed, folding his arms over his chest. The rising sunlight caught the silver of his Tower pendant, making it gleam and sparkle. It was a symbolism of Orphen's past, a reminder of his youth at the Tower of Fangs. At first Majic hadn't been able to understand why he would *want* a reminder of such terrible times.  
  
Now, however, he understood that it also reminded his master of good times. With every bad there was something good, and with every good there was something bad. Majic had realized *that* quickly enough, after determining that it was Orphen, and no one else, that he wanted to give his heart, soul, and life to. Because he could do that without his master knowing, make a silent vow, but then that was the problem-- Orphen wouldn't know.  
  
Majic had grown too attached, too selfish to want to say anything about it. Too many down sides ran through his mind. The idea of being rejected didn't hurt as much as the things that may have come with that. Such as, what if *because* of it, Orphen wanted to stop teaching him?  
  
So really, if he couldn't tell Orphen that, what *could* he confide in him?  
  
He blinked, glancing up in time to see his master stride toward him again. Majic flinched, a very uncharacteristic action, and Orphen noticed. It wasn't quite that he was scared of his master -- he wasn't; intimidated, maybe, but not frightened of -- but more that he was afraid of his touch. His head throbbed.  
  
Nevertheless, Orphen's fingers were surprisingly gentle in his hair. "Here?" asked his master softly, his thumb tracing over the welt on the boy's head. Mute, Majic nodded. His face warmed as the brunette's lips touched the spot, not quite in a kiss, lingering much longer than necessary. Majic's hands felt cold and he quickly clasped them, willing them tingling feeling to go away. Amidst confusion, anguish, surprise, and darkness, he somehow felt warm. It was pleasant; soothing.  
  
"I won't force you," repeated Orphen. "But I really think you should talk to someone-- Cleao or me, it doesn't matter. All right?"  
  
"Yes, Oshou-sama," Majic whispered.  
  
Orphen didn't let go of him just yet. He sifted the soft, windblown strands between his tanned fingers, his arm bracing the boy against him briefly before he released him. His hands went into his pockets, and he gave Majic a warning look -- though warning him against what, Majic knew not -- and left.  
  
Majic finally unclasped his fingers, his knuckles white and numb. He knew now that Orphen was very much aware, even more than Majic himself, of the darkness that lingered within the boy. And if what he said was true, that talking could filter in some hopeful light, then maybe he should take him up on the offer soon.  
  
Because Orphen, at least, would notice if he disappeared. 


End file.
